Johnnie the calf

I asked my friend, Johnnie the calf, if he’d ever been on Facebook.
He stared at me, puzzled. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen my face,’ he said.
‘Really?’ I couldn’t believe it. That beautiful soft, brown face with the velvet ears and the caramel eyes and the long, creamy eyelashes.

‘Nope,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’ve no idea what I look like.’
The next day I took him down to the river so he could have a look at himself in his reflection. He stared and stared. When he’d finished I asked him how he felt about it.
‘It’s like I’m looking at another calf. But when I try to get to know him, he just disappears.’
‘Umm, well, that’s because there isn’t anyone else. There’s only you.’
Johnnie shook his head, sadly.
‘Well, at least you know you exist now,’ I said to him.
‘Why? Do you only exist when someone’s looking at you?’
‘I guess so,’ I said, feeling a little confused.
‘So does that mean I’m on Facebook now?’ asked Johnnie.
‘You certainly are,’ I said.